Dae-Mun, Park
The sky is high.
The hill is high.
On the mountain, the end of the bough
Is also high.
The edge of the bare twigs which stand on the ridge,
Dimly touching the sky.
By the point of the twigs, be driving
All the sky, the loneliness is roving
And it flows in like the lightning.
Spurting in the mind, the longing
Stretch like the sap in the early spring.
The loneness flowed into in time
On the earth,
Form and be the rime!
The longing which stretched
On the air
Be the wind, blow and blare!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem